Mother in Training. Marie Ferrarella
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to want to be part of yours. An important part,” she emphasized, “not just an afterthought.”
Jack shook his head. The lawyer in him was ready to offer a rebuttal to what she’d just said. But he held his tongue. Because deep down, part of him knew that Zooey was right. That he should be part of their lives far more than he was.
But right now, it wasn’t possible. The demands on his time were too great, and he had to act while he could. That was how careers—lasting, secure careers—were made.
Lucky for his children—and him—he’d struck gold when he’d found Zooey.
He supposed that made a good argument for going along with impulse—as long as it could stand to be thoroughly researched, he added silently. Old dog, new tricks, he mused.
Standing before his son’s door, Jack paused for half a second as he looked at Zooey over his shoulder. The harsh expression on his face had softened considerably. “Am I paying you enough?”
“Probably not,” she responded, then waved him on. “Now go say goodbye to your son if you don’t want to be late.”
Now she was looking out for him as well. Jack shook his head. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re too bossy?”
The list was endless, she thought, but out loud she said, “Maybe. Once or twice. I wouldn’t have to be if you did these things on your own. Now open the door,” she told him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, amused, as he turned the doorknob.
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